


Like I Did

by melancholy_scorpio1



Series: Like I Did [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Frequent mentions of injury, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss of baby (mentioned), Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholy_scorpio1/pseuds/melancholy_scorpio1
Summary: Sirius escapes Azkaban and the first place he goes is home to the love of his life. Only a lot has changed in twelve years - will she be happy to see him?
Relationships: Sirius Black/Reader, Sirius Black/You
Series: Like I Did [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120583
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Like I Did

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 'Like I Did' by JC Stewart.
> 
> This can also be found on my Harry Potter blog, @/sirius-blxcks!

It had been storming for over an hour, but it had felt more like days. Rain battered the window panes and raindrops raced to be the first to get to the bottom, and while the wind continued to howl there seemed like there would be no letup anytime soon. You usually didn’t mind storms; you admired the beauty of the lightning strikes, how they lit up the sky and stemmed, crackling and charged with electricity and power. 

Usually you’d dress the house for the occasion, with floating candlesticks and blankets galore, but this storm was different. The power radiating from the lightning wasn’t just charged, it was dangerous; promising that something big, something darker, something dangerous was on its way. The thunder seemed to shake the foundations of your childhood home, the wind sounded like someone was being tortured. No, this wasn’t a normal storm; and it _certainly_ was not the type of storm you dressed the house for.

Instead, you sat beside the window in your bedroom watching it loom overhead. It was unyielding and restless, made worse by the dark of night, and you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Each room was pitch black and therefore unfamiliar, though you knew your way around the house; oddly-shaped shadows seemed to follow you around, cast by the small light at the end of your wand, and you simply couldn’t rest despite knowing your mind was playing tricks on you. 

The shadows lifted when lightning struck, followed by a booming clap of thunder which made the windows shake in their old frames. Your daughter made a noise that didn’t quite have the capacity to be a cry, and before you’d made it out the door she was soundless once again. Cassie was not yet a month old and was a well-behaved little lady, barely bothered by the lightning and it’s vicious friends. If only you felt the same. 

A loose tile knocked at the roof. You’d been meaning to fix it; you hadn’t had much time to recently. The birth of Cassie came at a time where a prisoner of Azkaban escaped, for the first time in its existence; your husband had rushed to work at once without telling you who the escapee had been, leaving you waiting on the Daily Prophet for news. You’d begged him not to go, but it was in vain. His job was his job and you’d married him with the understanding that he was dedicated to it. You understood that he was busy - but after three days of no news, an owl ensuring his safety wouldn’t have gone amiss. 

Your blood ran cold as you realised the rhythmic knocking was in fact a fist at your door. You grabbed your wand from your bedside table, having been using it to light the room for most of the storm. The words of a hex lay ready on your tongue while the tip of your wand lit the way. Your parents had chosen this place specifically for it’s isolated location, to avoid the prying eyes of witches, wizards and Muggles alike, and only a handful of people knew where you lived - you weren’t expecting anybody either, aside from Tomos who wouldn’t be home for another few days yet, so you were apprehensive at the least. 

Whoever it was knocked again, quicker and harder than the first. Who would possibly travel so far in such awful weather when they could send you an owl instead? 

You kept your footsteps light and slow; the element of surprise was always an advantage in buying some time to get help, and the odds were that you _would_ need to get help. Hex them, floo yourself and Cassie to the Ministry or somewhere else safe and that’s that. 

Perhaps you were overthinking it just a little bit. Isolated the house was, but a winding country road was located nearby with a clear, but distant, view of the house; it was rarely used, but when the occasional user did pass by they usually knocked to ask for some kind of favour - from using the bathroom to simply asking for directions. It was possible that a family of muggles had simply… got lost. Maybe they took a wrong turn due to the storm. There could be any number of rational reasons why they were knocking. 

Something in your gut told you you were wrong. 

The dark floor creaked beneath you and you cursed it for being so old. It probably seemed louder than it actually was, but then again so did your heart beat. Unfortunately for you there was no frosted window or peephole so the only visual advantage you had depended on how slowly you opened the door. Shaking hands unlocked the door with a slow twist of the key, and then you opened it. A foot’s width at first, enough space to take a peek at who was knocking. 

You couldn’t help but gasp, while your shaky hands scrambled to shut the heavy door. Then, for good measure, you pushed your body weight onto it so he had no chance of forcing his way in. 

You were horrified by how gaunt and corpse-like he was. That was all you remembered after such a quick glimpse, and it shocked you to your core. Not the fact that it was Sirius Black, Azkaban escapee and murderer of your friends, but how downright ill he looked. He didn’t look like himself at all. 

You realised, then, the situation you found yourself in. He was the reason why James and Lily Potter were dead. He was the reason why Harry was left with no parents. He was the reason it took you so long to fix your broken heart. He was the reason why Tomos had been taken away from home prematurely. But, at the same time, he was your first love; the love you’ll never get over. The love that you would have done anything for. The love that made it so difficult to believe that he’d done those bad things. It was that love which made the irrational part of your brain say _open the door._

But you couldn’t. Perhaps you would if it was just you, but Cassie was up the stairs and you wouldn’t risk her life - nor, would you risk her growing up without her Mother like Harry did. You felt threatened by him. That hurt your heart more than you cared to admit. 

“Y/N, please.” 

But that wasn’t the voice or the posture of a man of good health and intention to kill. By all accounts he was slumped over and could barely stand without aid, and his voice was child-like. He was bringing trouble to your door, admittedly, but you didn’t feel in any immediate danger. Even if his intentions were sinister you’d be able to fight him off with ease. 

Surely you couldn’t. Surely you weren’t going to. 

He killed Lily. He killed James. He killed Peter. You couldn’t. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, I want to explain.” His statement piqued your interest and you had to squeeze your hands into fists to stop yourself opening the door without thinking it through; but all you could think of was what he wanted to explain, of all of the things you wanted to say to him after so long hating him, and then of how good it would feel to be the person responsible for sending him back to Azkaban. 

You pretended that your aching heart and hopeful mind had nothing to do with it. 

You steadied the hand holding your wand and fully intended on keeping it drawn - your skeptical mind maintained the thought that it could all be an act to draw you in, only for him to kill you when you lowered your guard. With your free hand you opened the door slowly, unphased by the chilly wind making the interior doors sway on their hinges the longer it was open. 

Whatever preparation you thought you had after seeing him for that brief moment was _nothing_ compared to the reality before your eyes. He was so thin you were worried the wind would send him toppling any moment; you could see his ribs as clear as day, and the scraps of fabric they called clothing did nothing but draw attention to his haggardness. Tattoos littered his skin - they _definitely_ weren’t there before - and his hair was unruly and matted. What was possibly the most shocking was that he looked to have aged a lot quicker than normal, leaving him looking at least a decade older than what he actually was. 

His appearance made you feel sick, no matter how much he deserved the punishment. He’d been your fiance once. This was someone so unfamiliar he may as well have been an acquaintance. 

The only thing identifiable to him was the grateful ghost of a smile on his lips, the one he reserved only for you - stolen moments, like when you and he baked Christmas cookies and you ended up with flour on your nose, or when he taught you how to ride a broomstick and you hovered mid-air for the first time without falling on your ass. There was a time you lived for that smile. 

Trying your hardest to remain cool and blank-faced, you linked your arm with his and helped him inside. The moment you stepped over the threshold you shut and locked the front door; you didn’t want anymore unwanted visitors popping in unexpectedly. How would you explain? By which time your illegal visitor had hobbled to the couch on his own and flopped there, eyes closed as a look of relief washed over his face. 

“Thank you,” He muttered gratefully. By the time you’d lit the fire and some candles he was fast asleep. 

That wasn’t your intention. The longer he was here the more you’d be in trouble, and you didn’t want to be the person responsible for the recovery of his strength. 

But you let him anyway, even just for a few moments. He looked like he needed it. 

You checked the doors and windows were all locked. You drew the curtains closed, though you were tempted to keep them slightly open to check for any more visitors. You tried to keep your mind somewhat occupied, making a pot of tea, folding the laundry, all the while you couldn’t help but watch him intently. Like he was going to jump up and hurt you at any moment. You also found yourself doing something you promised you would never do; you were pitying him. 

*

It was a howler that did it for Sirius. 

Unbeknownst to you, for it was before you’d even got to know him, he had been waiting for days for the inevitable letter from his parents, telling him how disgraceful he was before disowning him. All for being a Gryffindor. He’d always had a dislike for their view of superiority coming in the form of ‘pure bloods’ and had, therefore, never gotten along with them; being the only Gryffindor in a long line of Slytherins wouldn’t have the best outcome, that was for sure. 

For some reason, Sirius was alone when he received it. Where James, Remus and Peter were you didn’t know; you saw the owl drop the letter from it’s claws, it’s red envelope gave it away instantly, and watched the anxiety on the boy’s face grow with every moment it lay before him. You tried to stop watching, or at least hide that you were. You’d never received a howler but you’d seen them (or, at least, heard them) before, and they were often humiliating. 

This one was no different. The moment he ripped the envelope it came alive before his eyes. The paper contorted into a mouth and simply yelled at him, cursing and scolding and condescending, while everybody simply watched, either holding their giggles (Slytherins) or hiding their shock (pretty much everyone else.) Mentions of blood status and disownment was the thing that most shocked you. Were they really about to give up their son because he was a Gryffindor? 

The letter tore itself up. Before the pieces of paper had settled to the table, Sirius was walking as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself - though, he’d already done that - while the Slytherin table erupted in laughter. 

You’re not sure what made you follow him. He already had his own friends and he’d never made any efforts to talk to you, and yet some part of you sympathised. So you grabbed your things, clutched at the half-eaten toast you’d been enjoying, and chased after him while trying to gain his attention. 

Hands in fists at his sides, he seemed to ignore you despite you calling his name. He was walking with purpose and intended to be alone, so why would he give you his attention? He didn’t even know you. But then you ran into his path and he couldn’t exactly ignore you when you were standing in front of him, panting from trying to catch him up. 

“What do you want?” He snapped, though his eye contact with the floor suggested he didn’t mean anything by the tone of his voice. 

“I just wanted to say that you didn’t deserve that, from your parents I mean. They said horrible things, completely untrue things, and you didn’t deserve it,” You spoke gently to him, and the tension in his shoulders released. He lifted his chin and looked at you with clouded eyes, while you fought with yourself to not give him a hug. “Are they always like that?” 

“Most of the time,” His voice didn’t hold the angry tone it did before, instead he simply sounded tired. If the shadows under his eyes were anything to go by, he’d expected such a letter. You weren’t used to seeing him so… reserved. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” He snapped once again, and your heart sank, “Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t need your pity and I don’t want it, so if you’re going to pity me then don’t bother talking to me.” 

“Alright, I get it - no pity, I promise,” You raised your hands in mock surrender

He nodded and, after an awkward beat of silence passed, moved around you and continued walking - only to turn around on his heel and ask, “What’s your name?” as an afterthought. 

“Y/N. Y/N LN.” 

“Y/N L/N,” He repeated, smirking before nodding. _That_ was the Sirius Black you were used to seeing prank Severus Snape. Cheeky and rebellious. “See you around, Y/N L/N.” 

* 

You did see him around, a lot in fact. You got to be friends of sorts, then you couldn’t imagine being best friends with anyone else, and then you got engaged. You got close to his friends, too - and you soon realised that he did have a family after all. His parents may have disowned him but his real family was at Hogwarts. 

And this was what you thought of in the dark hours of night, soon after he’d been sent to Azkaban. Sirius absolutely _adored_ his friends - James had been more of a brother than a friend, and he was Harry’s godfather. He and the others made themselves illegal Animagi just to help Remus out during a full moon. They’d known each other since the first day of Hogwarts. Why would he betray them? After everything he’d gone through with his family, going against all of their views and being cast out at such a young age, why would he join You-Know-Who’s army and undo all of the work and heartache he’d endured throughout school? 

It never made any sense to you. But Remus, smart and loyal Remus Lupin, believed it. And if it was good enough for him, it was good enough for you. 

Cassie started to cry. What started as a whimper turned into a fully-blown wail in seconds, and you found yourself conflicted about whether to simply leave her to cry and keep an eye on Sirius or take care of her. But, you figured, you’d put your life on hold enough for him over the years. You kept a watchful eye on him until he left your view and tried to be as quick as possible. 

The little lady had her Father’s hair and your eyes, and as soon as you picked her up her tiny fingers gripped onto your shirt like her life depended on it. “Hey there baby girl. What is it you wanted, hm? You hungry?” It wasn’t long since her last feed. After checking her nappy, making sure she didn’t seem poorly, you simply concluded she wanted a cuddle. “Mama’s got a bit of a situation going on downstairs, but don’t you worry my love. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” She gurgled and you couldn’t help but smile. You wandered around the room for a while, kissing her forehead and singing to her quietly, until she fell back to sleep and you placed her back into her cot. 

You tried not to entertain how different your life could have been had Sirius kept his promises. 

You walked quietly down the stairs to avoid disturbing him, only to find the couch empty and your criminal visitor standing in the kitchen, partially hidden by the shadows. You saw he was gripping to the counter and reached for your wand, as scenarios ran through your panicked mind. 

“You have a baby,” He sounded panicked and he didn’t try to hide it, either. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I would never have come if I knew you had children, Y/N. I don’t mean them any harm, I didn’t mean to get them involved,” He added quickly, voice shaking in fear. That only added to your panic - did that mean you were in danger? 

“But you want to put _me_ in danger? Going to kill off _another_ set of parents so another child is left with none, is that it? I’m sensing a pattern here. Is it because you had a bad relationship with your parents, or do you simply not like anybody else being happy because you’re incapable of it?” A flash of lightning lit up the hurt in his eyes, and he took an injured step back. “They’re all looking for you, Sirius. I suggest you leave, and I’ll never tell anyone you were here. At least one of us can keep their word.” 

“I never intended to break my word to you, Y/N. Please let me explain and then I’ll go, _please_ ,” He took a step closer and you took a step back, drawing your wand as a threat. He raised his hands in surrender and stepped back again. 

“Why should I listen to you? Hm?” 

“Because I never betrayed James and Lily, I never killed Peter _or_ those 12 Muggles. I was set up, it wasn’t me it was Peter.” It was the type of thing which you couldn’t help but laugh at because it sounded so absurd. 

“Oh yeah? You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that. Accusing Peter Pettigrew, who can’t defend himself because he’s _dead_ -” 

“He’s not dead. _He_ was the Death Eater, _he_ was the mole, I would _never_ betray my friends. I’d rather die, you know that, you know me,” He was begging you, pleading with you, but it all registered as a lie. What reason would Peter have to betray the Potters and kill 12 Muggles? And, if he wasn’t dead, where was he? “I know that it’s confusing and it all sounds a bit -” 

“Absurd? Factually incorrect? Fabricated? Take your pick.” 

In the back of your mind, you wondered if there was any truth in what he was saying. Because it wasn’t really absurd, after all - if it had been possible to believe Sirius had betrayed his friends, it was just as easy to believe Peter had done the same. 

“I’m not a liar, Y/N!” Lightning flashed. The sky was crying and so was he, unabashedly. He was just as angry as the storm that raged overhead, and yet he was just as heartbroken. You always thought you could read him well. “You know how much I loved James. _You know I saw the Potters as family_ ,” His voice cracked as he shouted; that was the loudest he’d spoken since you found him in his weakened state. 

You didn’t stop him when he stepped out from the shadows of the kitchen this time. You couldn’t bear to look at him and yet you couldn’t bear to take your eyes away; he was nothing like your Sirius, he was just a shell of what he used to be, and it tore you apart. 

“Did you?” You whispered. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Did you love James? Remus, Peter, Lily - me? Was everything you said, did, a lie?” 

For the moment he stood in shock, speechless. He shook his head but I didn’t believe him. “You know me, Y/N. You were there when I got that howler from my parents, you let me into your home because I had nowhere to go over the Christmas holidays. I could never lie to you,” He said it as if it was obvious, as if twelve years hadn’t passed between your last meeting and he hadn’t been sent to Azkaban. As if everything was normal and this was just a petty fight.

“I thought the same. I thought I knew you, but I guess I was wrong. And foolish.” 

“Don’t say that, please don’t say that.” 

“ _We were meant to be married_ , Sirius! We had a baby on the way, we were happy, _why did you have to fuck it up_?” 

“Well, that clearly meant so much to you,” Sarcasm coated his words, and it only made you angrier. “How long did it take for you to move on after me, hm? I clearly meant so much to you that you just _had_ to get married and have a baby while I was gone.” 

You ignored the guilt and shame making their reappearance, after so long trying to bury them. “ _While you were gone?_ Sirius, you were- _are_ responsible for the deaths of three of my friends and twelve muggles. You went to _Azkaban_ , which the last time I checked was a life sentence. This wasn’t some kind of business trip you were forced to go on. I _hated_ you. Your own tears pricked at your eyes. You’d tried so hard, for so long, to bury the feelings of shame you felt when you started dating Tomos. You remained loyal to a criminal for almost eight years, you convinced yourself everybody had it wrong about him, and it broke you to admit defeat and move on. _How dare he._

“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you, you don’t mean that.” 

Of course you didn’t. 

“What, you expected me to love you even after you betrayed our friends?”

“You still have your ring, right? That must mean something” You were bickering with him like nothing had changed, when _everything_ had changed. And yet he had a valid point - the ring of polished wood hung heavy on a golden chain around your neck. You hadn’t just kept it, you’d kept it close to you. 

Your hands remained shaky as you dug beneath your shirt, pulling at the gold chain until your fingers made contact with the warm ring he’d given you at the innocent age of sixteen. Not an engagement ring, not at that age, but a promise ring, a promise that it would come, one day. 

“I made a promise that I’d never take it off, didn’t I? At least I keep my promises.” 

*

“How’s your arm, Sirius?” 

Every footstep gave a crunch of snow as big snowflakes fell around you, as it had been for days before. Everybody who dared go outside in the low temperatures were not only mad, but couldn’t do so without a scarf at least, so you were wrapped up tightly with all woolen accessories to avoid the cold. Sirius, on the other hand, hadn’t bothered with a hat, scarf _or_ gloves and had therefore drawn himself as close as possible to you not five minutes after stepping outdoors, with his arm linked with yours and his hands in his pockets. You didn’t mind - though you couldn’t help worrying about him getting ill. 

“It’s not bad, I s’pose. Feel worse about my broomstick than I do about a broken arm,” His cheeks were flushed and his nose was bright red, and the moment you heard his teeth chattering was the moment you picked up the pace. All you’d wanted to do was take a walk in the snow - you only saw it when you were at school.

Six days earlier, Sirius had fallen off his broom mid-flight during a game of Quidditch (you swear it was a pesky Slytherin jinxing the broom, but you had no proof). Not only had he broken his arm, his broomstick had been destroyed into splinters beyond repair. You didn’t know of any sentiments being attached to it, but admittedly he _had_ been quiet and a bit touchy since it happened. 

“We can get you another broomstick, Sirius, you’ll be up and about playing quidditch in no time!” 

“‘s not just about quidditch, Y/N. I taught you how to fly on that broom.” You hadn’t even realised it had meant that much to him. You pulled him to a stop and kissed him, lips cold and chapped. In the middle of the courtyard with groups of people flocking from one place to another, all you cared about was him. 

“What was that for?” His grin was contagious and cheeky, but you got the feeling that the red flush of his cheeks was no longer from the bite of the cold. 

“I guess you’ll just have to teach me to ride your new broomstick, won’t you? I’d be more than happy to oblige, I’ll even fall off it for authentication. How does that sound?” He threw his head back and his laughter echoed around the courtyard; such a beautiful sound, it made your heart race. 

You didn’t notice him rummaging around in his pockets. One moment he was laughing and you were trying to settle the butterflies in your stomach and the next he was passing you a small, velvet box. He wasn’t completely serious - contrary to his name, he never was - but he was trying his best to hold a smirk back by biting on his lip. 

You looked from the box to him and then back again. It opened with a small click and there, nestled in a red cushion, was a shining ring of polished wood the exact shade of his broom. 

“What’s this?” Your voice was small and yet hopeful, while his eyes glistened with excitement. 

“Present for James that I wanted your opinion on - ow!” He jumped away slightly after you hit his arm gently, though he rubbed it better to exaggerate. “That hurt my heart, really did. What do you think?” 

He came closer again and you took the box in your palm, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world. “It’s beautiful, Sirius. I’m sure James will love it.” 

“Do _you_ love it?” 

“Well, yes. But it’s not my ring it’s James’,” You skimmed the pad of your finger over the smooth surface of it. It was so simple yet it meant so much. 

“Technically it is, yeah I need to pay him back,” You tore your eyes from the gift and looked back at him, frowning. “No, no, don’t worry. He offered to pay.” 

“I don’t need gifts, I just need you,” You felt the need to reassure, the thoughts of him wrongly feeling like a bad boyfriend invading your mind. He could never be anything but loving towards you, even if he tried to be anything else. Even when he was playing a prank on you. 

“It’s made of the broom. I overheard Lily talking about promise rings with you a few weeks ago and when I looked into them it says they show you take the relationship seriously. I don’t tell you that I love you enough, and I do. Eternally. Just because I don’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t. Whenever you feel like I don’t love you, I want you to look at that and know that I do, and I always will.”

“Oh, Sirius,” You kissed him again. Deep and gentle, you poured everything you had into him and you got everything he had in return. 

“I want you to wear it on your ring finger. I’d marry you in an instant if I could, right now, but we’re too young and I want it to be official that you’re mine. Is that too weird?” 

“It’s perfect. Would you do the honours?” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You couldn’t help but laugh at his doubting tone, not when Sirius Black was never anything but confident. You held the box while he took the ring out carefully and looked you in the eye as he spoke.

“I promise to love you no matter what. I’ll always be faithful to you, and you alone.I can’t say I’ll ever be good enough to be yours, but I promise that everything I do will be an effort to be the boyfriend and, hopefully one day, the husband you deserve.” You blinked tears away as he spoke with such sincerity, and you truly believed his words. You weren’t being naive, you didn’t think so anyway - you knew that he was speaking the truth, and you knew that you would love him until the very day you died. 

*

You kept your word, and you never took it off. The ring weighed heavier after the trial and his sentence to Azkaban, and you could hardly go around wearing the promise ring of a murderer; but you didn’t have the heart to take it off. Just the thought of it hurt too much. You always hoped he’d come back for you, that his sentence would be revoked and he would be proven not-guilty, and for that reason alone you kept it on, concealed from the world. 

“You kept it?” Eyes wide, he looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It gave him hope. You’d given him hope - you’re not sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Of course I kept it, what the hell would I have done with it?” 

“Does your husband know?” 

You scoffed. “‘Course he doesn’t know. Told him it was my Father’s, that I found it when I was moving in. He doesn’t even know that we were a couple.” 

He seemed hurt by that, but you refused to feel guilty. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

“That’s irrelevant, anyway. I couldn’t take it off even if I wanted to, you know I keep my promises,” It was a weak argument, a very weak argument indeed. You could have taken it off if you had wanted to, if you’d hated him as you claimed then it would have been easy. Both he and you knew that you refusing to break your promises had nothing to do with it. 

“My feelings don’t matter, Sirius. It’s _you_ who ruined this relationship -”

“No.” 

“ - You didn’t care for me, for us! That’s why you went over to them, _him_ -”

“ _No_.”

“- Otherwise you wouldn’t have done it!” Every time he interrupted, your voice got louder. You turned your back on him, willing yourself not to cry, not to show him how much you still cared. He didn’t deserve that love, that care. Your poorly stitched heart was in pieces again and he didn’t deserve any of it. You needed to calm down. 

“ _No!_ I loved you, you know I did!” 

“How could you do that to us Sirius? After _everything_ we’ve been through, after your parents and the bullies - and your _friends_. Did you care? For them? For me?” 

“Of course I did! You know I did, everything I did was for you!” You whipped your head around and if looks could kill he would be dead. He already looked dead on the outside, and by the heartbreak and hurt on his face he was close to being dead on the inside, too. Had he even noticed he was crying? 

“Don’t you dare say that. You have no right to say that after you betrayed our friends.” 

“ _I didn’t do it_ ,” Hot, wet and heavy, you would have cried eventually and keeping your tears in was giving you a headache, so you simply let them fall. He deserved to see your pain. 

_“I don’t know what to think anymore, Sirius!”_

Cassie wailed from upstairs, and you thanked Godric for her timing however guilty you felt for frightening her. You fled up the stairs without another word. 

You held her close as you cried. You soothed her while you wished for that reassurance from somebody else. Every emotion was hitting you at once and it was overwhelming you - paired with the ghost of your past coming to haunt you. Shame continued to burn at your skin, only it was for your disloyalty to Tomos rather than your disloyalty to Sirius. You felt guilty for even thinking about Sirius that way - he was a _criminal_ who killed your friends. 

Then you realised; it could be possible that he was telling the truth. It could have been possible for Peter to be the traitor, he’d always been a bit mysterious with you. He was part of Sirius’ group of friends as much as Sirius was; it would have been a just as likely and hurtful betrayal. 

But you couldn’t think of that too much. Because if you thought about it too much, the guiltier you started to feel; all that lost time, that lost energy. Sirius was wrongly imprisoned and subsequently treated so awfully that he no longer looked like himself, he suffered and got hurt and it was all for no reason. All in the place of someone who meant just as much. 

You were hit with a wave of white-hot anger, then. You’d _grieved_ Peter. Not only had you lost James and Lily, you’d lost Peter too, and it hurt. There was a funeral. He was dead, he was meant to be dead, and you cried for him - all the while, he was still alive and _he_ was responsible for the death of the Potters. 

It made your stomach churn. Perhaps thinking that Sirius _had_ done it and was lying about Peter was easier than thinking he was telling the truth. 

Cassie was asleep once again and you placed her into her cot gently. You didn’t want to go downstairs, you didn’t want to face Sirius, because whatever he was going to say it would hurt you. One way or another. 

Slowly, you made your way back down the stairs. Sirius had retreated back into the kitchen, but stepped into the living room when he realised you’d returned. He’d stopped crying; his eyes were red and bloodshot but he’d gotten hold of himself. You probably looked just as awful.

“Alright,” Your voice was quiet and croaky, and you coughed to clear it. “So, tell me. You say it was Peter. What makes you think that?” 

“Because I saw him.” 

You sat in the armchair and invited him to sit on the couch. You still couldn’t shake the anxiety that came with him being unable to get his balance, and you wanted to concentrate fully on what he had to say. Thankfully, he took the chance to be seated though he stayed on the edge of the cushion. 

“I wasn’t their secret keeper. They wanted me to be, but I convinced them Peter should do it because nobody would suspect him - that’s how I know he betrayed them. Only the four of us knew. When I found out that James and Lily were dead, I knew it was because of him. I searched for him with the intentions of avenging them, but when I got there he started shouting that it was me who betrayed them. He then set off an explosion that killed the twelve muggles and cut his finger off to make them think he was dead.” 

“But why would he do that?”

“For the same reasons everybody thought I’d done it, of course. I guess he thought he had nothing to gain from opposing You-Know-Who. I would have killed him given half the chance, but I was too busy being arrested,” His voice was resentful and he had a far away look in his eyes, as if recalling a memory. If he was lying to you, which he’d never been very good at, then he’d learned some talents from the other prisoners. 

“You’ve had twelve years to come up with this, Sirius. How do I know you haven’t just made it up to get us on side? You’ve got no proof.” 

“I’ll get you proof, if that’s what it takes,” He was begging again, it was in his voice. He looked hopeful again, something in his eyes made him seem brighter and better and normal. He was doing it - he was trying to convince you and it was working. “I’ll find Peter. I’ll find Peter and I’ll get him to confess and maybe… You could find it in you to forgive me for breaking my promise. Maybe we could have our own little family, just like we should have -”

“It’s not just as easy as that Sirius. I have Cassie now, and my husband - they’re my life, I couldn’t just leave them behind.” 

He looked across at you like you hung the moon. “I love you, Y/N. I always have, I never stopped - that promise, I kept. You’re the only thing that kept me from going insane like the others. I thought about you every day.”

“I’m flattered, Sirius, but - I _can’t._ I couldn’t do that to Tomos, and I stopped caring about you the _moment_ you got sent to Azkaban,” It was a lie and you knew it, he knew it, everybody knew it. Even Remus, even on your wedding day, knew it. The only person that didn’t know it was your husband. 

“Does he know you like I do?” 

“ _Did_.” 

“Does he know your demons? The things that keep you up at night?” 

“Sirius -”

“I’ll bet he doesn’t know about the words that those Slytherin bullies carved into your skin during our first year,” His voice was filled with pure rage, but you knew him better than that - his rage was a mask for his heartbreak. It was always the way. “Huh? Does he?” 

“I don’t answer to you,” You bowed your head, eyes catching on the wooden ring falling outside your shirt. 

“He doesn’t fucking know you, Y/N! Not like I do.” 

“You don’t know me, not anymore. How could you? You’ve been away for twelve years.” 

“Nobody could change that much.”

“You changed much more in a day than I have in twelve years, I’ll give you that much. I thought I knew you and then _bam_ murderer, traitor, Death Eater in the space of twenty-four hours,” You knew it was bad of you to give him hope and then snatch it away from him, but you were simply speaking the truth. “You don’t know that I lost another baby the day you got sent to Azkaban, as if losing _you_ wasn’t bad enough. You don’t know that I grieved you like you were dead, because that would have been so much better than you being sent to Azkaban for leaving Harry, your fucking _godson_ , without parents. And then I felt so guilty for wishing you dead, because I still loved you so much it hurt, and every night I wished that your face would be on the front page of The Daily Prophet with the begrudged headline, _Sirius Black found innocent and released from Azkaban_. Living in a world without you, the only person that ever knew me better than I knew myself, when I was so adamant that you were innocent, was such a fucking lonely world to live in. 

“And when I finally moved on from you, after years of loving you and never accepting that you’d actually done what everybody else said you had, I felt guilty for not waiting just that little bit fucking longer. I felt like I owed you loyalty. _You_ were the demon, Sirius, _you_ were the thing that kept me awake. So don’t say that you know me, because you don’t.

“I haven’t told my husband about you, because I would never be able to tell him what we went through and what that felt like, because you’re the only person who I can share that with. I didn’t want to tell him that I was still in love with my criminal ex-boyfriend who killed my friends, that helped You-Know-Who, because what type of person does that make me?” 

Sirius was stunned and speechless, and slipped from the couch to the floor on his knees. He looked wounded; moments from death, but not yet unsalvageable. And you were the only one who could save him. 

“I’m going to make it up to you, Y/N.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“I swear on my life I will make it up to you,” You could see in his eyes that he meant it, and his confidence scared you. “I know that Peter is in Hogwarts -” 

“Wait, Hogwarts? Where - How?” So many questions, but Sirius was already standing and making his way to the door. This newfound determination and adrenaline gave him energy and strength, something to live for - if proving his innocence wasn’t a big enough motivation. He walked with no help and with a fierce look of dedication. “Sirius, what…” 

“Do you believe me?” 

You didn’t hesitate. “I want to. And I would, if you had proof. I’ll be the first to stand by you and I’ll stay by your side. I’ll fight as much as I have to, I’ll never stop.” 

He looked satisfied with your answer. “I’ll find you proof.” 

He unlocked the front door with ease, and sent you one of his smiles which were once flirtatious but didn’t _quite_ have the same effect with yellowed teeth. 

“Sirius, wait, would you? You can’t just walk into Hogwarts, how are you going to -” 

“My sweetest Y/N, what’s the famous saying? When there’s a will there’s a way. Plus - I’d do anything for you.” He threw the door open and sent the interior doors swaying again, but you weren’t ready to let him slip through your fingers yet.

“If that’s the case, I have one more request,” He always had such patience. His hand held the door handle and he watched you, waiting for you to finish. “Please be safe.” 

Determined eyes softened and for a moment you forgot about Tomos - you’d regret that later. 

“As I said - anything for you.” 

It tore your heart out to see him leave again, but this time you had hope. _Real_ hope, not just the hope you created in your mind to help sleep easier. This was the type of hope that made you as giddy as a teen after your first kiss. 

The storm had passed. Rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning could still be recognised distantly, but it was at a point where you could watch, enjoy and wait for the clearest of skies and brightest of suns the following morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Part 2 is coming soon!


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